Then there’s Robert Fitzgerald. His chess sets just fly out of the store. We can’t keep them in stock. Even spirit houses are selling reasonably well. You wouldn’t think there’d be a market in Toronto for spirit houses, but when Clive puts his mind to it, he can sell anything. Be warned. I think of the rather delicate wood-carver every time I sell something he created.
But ask any of these people the question? No. That leaves the demons of the night, some who rush to justify, others who hasten to condemn.
I wanted most of all to avenge Chat Chaiwong, you understand, a fine young man who had the potential to do great things. I also thought a child was entitled to know who his parents were, and perhaps more importantly, to know he was loved. I also wanted to put a stop to it, to strike a blow against the death and destruction those who sell drugs wreak. There is nothing wrong with any of that. The question, however, remains.
About a month after I got home, a plain envelope, with no return address but postmarked Thailand, slid through my mail slot. It contained a clipping from the Bangkok Herald, nothing more. According to the reporter’s account, tragedy continued to dog the Chaiwong family. In the most recent event, there had been a terrible boating accident on the Chao Phyra near Ayutthaya, in which Khun Wongvipa, widow of the late industrialist Thaksin Chaiwong and vice president of Ayutthaya Trading and Property, had lost her life. The body of a senior official with the same company, Chief Operating Officer Yutai Boonlong, was found the next day, floating in the river. The only survivor of the accident was Dusit, younger son of Wongvipa, unable at that time to recall anything that had happened. Another child, a daughter, Prapapan, was most fortunately staying with a friend of the family, Busakorn Promthip, at the time of the accident.
Police were trying to determine how an accident of this magnitude could possibly have happened. They cited inexperience as a possible cause, Mr. Yutai having purchased the boat, valued at close to U.S. $100,000 only recently. In a separate and apparently unrelated incident, Mr. Yutai’s brother, Eakrit, was also killed in a car accident as, upon hearing of the boating accident, he raced to the scene.
The article concluded with a statement by a spokesman for Ayutthaya Trading and Property that reassured customers and suppliers of the company that the affairs of the company were in good hands. Khun Sompom Chaiwong, son of Thaksin by his first wife, and one of the few remaining family members, had acted decisively to ensure continuity at the company. A minority shareholder, Khun Wichai Promthip, well known as founder and president of the extremely successful transportation company, Busakorn Shipping, had been persuaded to take the helm.
A couple of weeks later, Natalie Beauchamp called me. “I heard from the Bangkok police,” she said. “They’ve asked me to help arrange to have William’s dental records shipped to them. A body has been found, and they seem pretty sure it’s his. I thought you’d like to know, given how hard you tried to find him.”
“I’m sorry, Natalie,” I said. “But I guess in a way this is good news.”
“Yes,” she said. “The life insurance will make a big difference. Those gemstones did, too. I know William sent them to me originally, but it was you who figured out they were there. I would have left those amulets just lying in a drawer somewhere, or I might even have thrown them out. It would have been thousands of dollars down the drain. I suppose the gems were Will’s way of making amends?”
“I’m sure they were,” I said.
“At least this dentist business will bring closure, if it works out. That’s the most important thing. I feel as if I can get on with my life, and my daughter, in her own way, can, too. I’ve already made inquiries about special programs for her.”
“That’s terrific,” I said.
“The police told me some anonymous person phoned in a tip as to the location of the body. After all this time!” she said. “Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
“Amazing,” I said.